


How To Break A Fireproof Heart

by heijihatsutori



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Fanmix, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heijihatsutori/pseuds/heijihatsutori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The owner of the shop is a man who used to travel around the world after finishing high school and loves telling stories on his travel adventures, though he hardly talk about his personal life, and tends to clam up when asked. He always opens the shop early, feeding the birds, and bugs the hell out of the stoic young officer who came from the city after been posted at the small village a couple of years back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now with fanmix. [Download](http://heijihatsutori.livejournal.com/15057.html) or [listen to the playlist](https://8tracks.com/heijihatsutori/how-to-break-a-fireproof-heart).

_Let’s scribe onto the hearts only those  
Memories that we wish to hold onto  
What else can we do_

*******

  
  
            There is a wooden shop selling souvenir at the corner of the road by the police station. The shop is small, simple, and from the window outside there are lots of hanging trinkets adorning the upper space of the shelf, which is full with colorful sculpture and whatnot, neatly arranged.  
  
            The owner of the shop is a man who used to travel around the world after finishing high school and loves telling stories on his travel adventures, though he hardly talk about his personal life, and tends to clam up when asked. He always opens the shop early, feeding the birds, and bugs the hell out of the stoic young officer who came from the city after been posted at the small village a couple of years back.  
  
            The two have been close friends somehow, despite the opposite in their personalities, and it is always one with the other, never without.  
  
            Until one day the shopkeeper falls down to his death from the hospital building.  


*******

  
_The feelings that have fallen_  
 _Even if I grab them, they fall apart in my hand_  
  
  
            Myungsoo groans awake with the incessant ringing of his alarm clock, hands covering his face. The takeout polystyrene had piled up so much on one side of the room that he was inclined to just throw them all into the fire, though chances is that he will be puking all over it first. Ignoring the nagging thought in his mind to throw them out already, he drags his heavy body to the bathroom to wash up, and proceeds to finish everything without as much of a glance at the mirror.  
  
            This proves to be the worst thing to do when he is kicked out unceremoniously by his superior at his haggard appearance with a bundle of letter on one hand neatly tied up into a package, his badge and gun taken and locked away in the superior’s desk drawer.  
  
            ‘Long paid vacation for unruly behavior’, the man had said, the word suspension hanging in the air, though the pain in the elder’s eyes suggest otherwise; he had not taken a single break since that incident, immersing himself in work to the point of being obsessed with even the simplest paperwork, and his crooked tie and messy hair must have set the man off this morning, he reasons.  
  
            But when he returns to his small flat and opens the bundle, taking the first letter atop the pile and flips it to see the sender, he almost screams.  
  
            “I don’t know what this is about, but at least you’ll have something to do now.”  
  
            Damn straight he is, for apparently the bastard had a decency to leave a crazy bundle of letters to his _superior_ of all people to give to him when he takes -or forced to take- a break, and he had begrudgingly accepted them, as he is not one to disobey his boss. A quick scan of the other letters shows recipients with names he don’t recognize, and there’s a couple addressed to him himself, with numbers suggesting the order to open.  
  
            Tearing open the first numbered letter, he is greeted with the usual brand of greeting in a clear, clean handwriting.  
  
            _Hey, Mr. Officer,_ he reads and he almost snorted at the greeting.  
  
            _I need you to do me a favor._ Of course, why else would you write, he thinks.  
  
            _It will be the last one so no need to worry much, for chances are when you read this I’m no longer around. Hell, okay, I’m dead. So yeah, think of this as my final wish or something._  
  
            Something pricks him in the inside at that.  
  
            _I need you to find and deliver those letters for me. They are my old friends back in high school, and we were close, but things happen and…yeah. Still, I don’t want to leave things hanging, even when I’m dead and all. Call me selfish, and you’ll want to strangle me for giving you work (har har) but you need to get the hell out of there. Seriously, stop brooding and doing all those boring paperwork and take a break already!_  
  
             He can hear the voice scolding him in his head, and he has to wonder if he indeed was being cooped out for too long now.  
  
            _So take this chance to go back to the city (I know you won’t go if you don’t have a reason thus this is it; a reason. I’m a genius!) and change your pace a bit. I won’t apologize for bugging you now, and don’t argue; there isn’t much else you can do anyways._  
  
            True, he thinks.  
  
            _Inserted along is the picture of the 6 of us, with names so you’ll know who’s who, and clipped together with the letter is an attachment of instruction for you to read in order to do this smoothly. You might think it’s odd but my friends can be a bit…weird at times so it’ll be better for you to prepare a little bit._  
  
            He raised a brow at that, and starts having second thoughts on the whole affair, but he looks at the picture and there’s six young men smiling at the camera, the only face he knows has a smile so wide that is not far off from the ones he remembers, and he dismissed the thought immediately.  
  
            Myungsoo is not a people’s person and he had a hard time adjusting to the place when he first arrived, that he might be as isolated as a man can be had not for that person helping him out and befriending him when there’s no reason to do so.  
  
            He owed the man a lot, who might be one he can really call and proudly say as his best friend, and he almost figured that these people might be the reason why the man was so adamant on talking about his past, as there’s always a melancholic air when the topic showed up, somehow.  
  
            He never pried, nor did he push the topic further, for he also not keen on talking about his own past either. But to ask of this after leaving the world himself, he cannot even begin to imagine the strength his friend must have in writing all these letters.  
  
            For making amends is the hardest thing to do, even when time starts slipping away.  
  
            _Thank you, and be well, Myungsoo._  
  
            He closes the letter and starts by taking out the garbage.  
  
            Later, he sits in his cleared and bare flat, and breathes.  


*******

  
_Could you want me to find my way back to you  
Did you need me to find my way back to you_  
  
  
            “Hey, Mr. Officer,”  
  
            He turns to face the person in front of him.  
  
            “Aside from work, what do you do?”  
  
            He raises an eyebrow at that.  
  
            “I mean, sure, there must be something, but, how to put this.”  
  
            He keeps staring, as the wind tousled at their hair.  
  
            “You need to live more.”  
  
            It’s getting colder, now.  
  
            “Really, you have to.”  
  
            He remains silent.  


*******

  
_And if we turn back time  
Could we learn to live right?_  
  
  
  
            Lee Howon or Hoya as he is affectionately called by some is a busy man in that he has tons of cases to review and a reputation to keep and a constant headache which makes him not the friendliest people around. This is a man with so much determination he can do anything and everything if he really so wishes for and puts his brilliant mind to.  
  
            At least, that is what he knows from the brief introduction attached to the soon-to-be-delivered letter to the young defense attorney.  
  
            _He is also quite cold at first meeting, but you’re not one to talk so it’ll be fine._  
  
            Myungsoo does not know if he should be grateful or rip the paper off to shreds.  
  
            But perhaps it’s his luck, for when he reach the prosecutor office and ask for a certain attorney at the lobby the said person was walking by and promptly asked for his business right there and then. And that’s how he found himself sitting in front of Howon at a nearby café.  
  
            At least he can skip on making an appointment now; they can be a pain at times.  
  
            “I am bequeathed to deliver this as per his final wishes.”  
  
            Carefully, he passes the letter across the table.  
  
            _Ask him to read it immediately. Or he’ll forget all about it when he goes back working._  
  
            Though that might not be the case after all, if the intense look the man is giving the letter to go by; it’s like he can burn the paper with his stare alone.  
  
            Still, he is about to open his mouth to speak when the elder beat him to it.  
  
            “How…did he, I mean-“  
  
            There’s a pain in the man’s eyes at that and he steels himself.  
  
            “It’s an accident.”  
  
            He knows he is simplifying things way too much, but what the other doesn’t know won’t hurt him, he rationalizes.  
  
            “Then- no, never mind; that man always prepared for everything since back then.”  
  
            He internally breathes a sigh of relief, for that means he can keep himself from explaining everything away. He himself may not be ready enough to talk about it actually, no, not even now.  
  
            With that, Howon reaches for the letter and opens it. Though when the cool and collected attorney starts cursing in less than a minute since he starts reading Myungsoo mentally imagines giving the sender a full-blown kick from the back. Surely, the attorney would not mind that in the least.  
  
            But he changes his mind as Howon starts to smile softly, eyes going over the layers of papers (that person sure can write, he thinks), and is close to tears when he is done.  
  
            He does not know what was written -it’s not his business after all- but the attorney calls his secretary and informs that he is taking a half day today and proceeds to talk; about their high school days, the shenanigans that more often than not got the group into trouble, and a bit about the others when he told that there’s letters for the rest of them too, and that he only goes to Howon first because that’s what he was required of.  
  
            And then there’s the request, too.  
  
            _If he inclines to talk, and do so, listen to him, please._  
  
            So he does just that, nodding at the right places, and watches as mixes of emotions lay bare on the other man’s face.  
  
            When they part later on after a couple shot of soju, and dull throbbing starts creeping at the corner of his head, the only thing that remains clear in his drowsy mind is Howon’s tear-stricken face as he talks about the fight they had, how his last words was for the late friend to go and die somewhere, never knowing that it would literally become the exact truth.  
  
            _He will cry, but its fine, and do tell him I’m sorry, tell him that for me._  
  
            He did as he was asked for, but Howon smiles bitterly instead, and it hurts.  
  
            Even more so than he thought it would.  


*******

  
_Choose your last words  
This is the last time_  
  
  
            “Hey, Hoya,”  
  
            He ignores the call.  
  
            “I’m leaving this place.”  
  
            He turns at that, anger rising in him.  
  
            “I’m going to see the world, I-“  
  
            He raises a hand, cutting the other stop.  
  
            “We already talk about this. Don’t start now.”  
  
            There is a bitter smile, but he knows it’s futile, the other has already decided.  
  
            “I told him already, and he gives me his support.”  
  
            That was the last straw, and he screams.  


*******

  
_It smashed the world I was living in_  
 _It smashed the world you were living in_  
  
  
            There’s an impending headache coming as he stares blankly at the crazy long attached paper -or papers, really- for the second person. Skimming through the ridiculous amount of words he realizes it’s mostly a guide on various what-if situations, and he has to wonder how bad this person can be, to make that very-much no-nonsense shopkeeper to worry to this degree.  
  
            Until he read the very first line and promptly hit his head on the desk.  
  
            _Google street artist Jang Dongwoo and if you’re lucky you can get his latest location._  
  
            You’ve got to be kidding me, he curses.  
  
            _I mean, he has a habit of being anywhere and everywhere and his wanderlust might be even worse than me these days (though that’s because I can’t really go anyway by now- okay I better stop with this kind of black humor before you burn this away). He didn’t have the plan to leave Korea though, and chances he wouldn’t be, too, so no worries._  
  
            Good you know, he thinks bitterly. And at least he won’t be leaving the country himself to deliver some letter to God knows where now.  
  
            _He’s nice, hell, he might be the nicest guy I ever know, and he’s the only one that give me full support when I decided to travel around; though I know it kills him to be left behind as he wants to leave as much as I did. But Dongwoo, he’s just- meet him and you’ll know._  
  
            He briefly considers asking for Howon’s help, but Google is easier and definitely reduce the potential awkwardness after the impromptu night out two days ago, regardless of how ridiculous of a plan it sounds.  
  
            Alas, Myungsoo is not one to purely believe in luck, nor is he religious by any means, but a quick search and he found a post on some girl’s blog that gushes on how she met the apparently infamous (?) street artist who never stays put in one place at the nearby city, to which he just think screw it all and follows his guts by taking a taxi straightaway to the place mentioned in the post.  
  
            And he caught himself dumbfounded with utter disbelief later when lo and behold he is there, at the centre of some park with the water fountain flows smoothly and continuously at the background, facing the so-called mysterious street artist Jang Dongwoo who greets him like an old friend instead of a stranger, and starts inviting him to sit even before he get a chance for a greeting.  
  
            He remembers the picture, and belatedly noted that the man’s smile is still the same, one that is so wide it lights up his whole face, and only second to the ridiculous one the shopkeeper sports on.  
  
            He takes the offer and sits, letting the man chatter away excitedly about some bird that came close to him that morning, and surprisingly finding himself not minding the situation one bit.  
  
            When he properly introduces himself later, and watches at how hard the elder’s face fell at the sight of the letter and the news of the sender, he understands why the late friend of theirs was so, so worried.  
  
            _Make sure he reads it, no matter how hard it is. He needs to read it, the letter._  
  
            He watches as Dongwoo clearly struggling with keeping himself in check as he trudges on the letter. This is a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, open and bare, and this experience is much more unpleasant and way harder to handle than when he met Howon before, that he ends up staring down the ground, unable to look at the painfully hurt look that replace the cheerful expression on the man’s face earlier.  
  
            _Tell him I’m so, so sorry. I just- please, give him a hug for me?_  
  
            Wordlessly, the man reaches out for a hug, and it breaks him a bit inside when he can feel the man shaking, his shoulder starts to feel damp from all the tears.  
  
            _If he starts crying, don’t say anything. I can never handle the sight of him crying before, but you’re much tougher than me in the emotional department (though you really need to emote more I think) so it should be fine, if it’s you._  
  
            _Let him talk, cry, whatever. Let him do whatever he wants. Let him._  
  
            So he sits there, ignoring the spectacle they are making -two grown adults holding each other close in public with one of them crying uncontrollably on the other’s shoulder must be quite a sight regardless- and stares up at the orange sky, the golden hue shines colorlessly in his eyes.  
  
             And the whole time he keeps on struggling to simply breathing.  


*******

  
_He smiles politely back to you  
You stare politely right on through_  
  
  
            “Hey, Dongwoo,”  
  
            He smiles, like always.  
  
            “I-“  
  
            He shakes his head at that, and watches as the eyes go distant.  
  
            “Don’t be; there’s nothing much left to say now, isn’t it?”  
  
            He keeps his voice low, and musters enough courage to meet the other’s eyes dead on.  
  
            “I’m happy for you, really.”  
  
            Perhaps he really is, deep down inside, for he sounds so sincere and surprised himself.  
  
            “I am.”  
  
            He lets the other go, and conveniently ignores the way the hand was shaking in his.  


*******

  
_You’re fireproof_  
 _Nothing breaks your heart_  
  
  
            Myungsoo spends the next three days cooping in his temporarily rented studio apartment, the one he stayed back when he was still an officer stationed at the nearby police station two blocks down the road. It is simply a stroke of luck that the place was empty at the moment, and he remembered the surprised look on the landlady’s face when he came knocking, like she just saw a ghost from the past or something.  
  
            In a way, maybe he is.  
  
            The room is, if anything, still the same as before; he can still count the cracks on the wall when he tilts his head just so, the cold floor hard and unforgiving against his body, and it is still bare of furniture, which may be off-putting to some but just perfectly right for him.  
  
            That might be the very reason why the landlady remembered him so much; being the longest tenant who manages to rent the place with no fuss on the condition.  
  
            He grabs his backpack as a makeshift pillow, and closes his eyes when there’s a knock at the door. Groaning, he blearily stands up and calls out, to which the landlady’s scoff greets him back.  
  
            Sheepishly, he opens the door, and struck dumb when he realizes that the landlady’s got company. He can barely register the pointed look from the elderly when she pushes the food containers into his hand, and promptly walks away from the awkward situation.  
  
            Which is putting it lightly, when standing with eyes downcast in front of him, is the famous singer-songwriter Nam Woohyun.  
  
            _Just be polite. Dude is more sensitive than he lets on._  
  
            Scratching his head at the turn of events, he lets the man in, and puts the food away on the small coffee table at the corner, his mind whirling.  
  
            “I heard from Dongwoo; about the letters.”  
  
            Well that makes it easier, though that still does not explain everything.  
  
            “I got your address from Hoya, when he drops by the other day.”  
  
            He cringes at the memory, and inwardly applauded the attorney for the ability to memorize such detail even when being under alcohol influence. He had send the man away in a taxi, but have to drop by his place first for the extra fare, and it’s almost humiliating how he forgot to being enough cash in his wallet that night.  
  
            Being at the small village means low maintenance on money, and the habit must stick enough to him despite realizing that Seoul is another beast altogether.  
  
            Wordlessly, he takes out the letter from his backpack, and hands it over. At this point he does not think that any introduction is necessary between them, and judging from the way the other had trudged on with the details, the thought is mutual.  
  
            Still, he makes two cup of coffee while Woohyun reads and almost drop them on his lap when the man glares at him, obvious hatred in his eyes, the papers crumpled in his fist.  
  
            “You, Kim Myungsoo, right?”  
  
            The venom in the voice is unmistakable, but he calmly nods.  
  
            “Tell me, how did he die?”  
  
            He swallows at that.  
  
            “Don’t give me any stupid crap like accident; I won’t buy that.”  
  
            _You’re an officer; surely you can handle him, whoever they are._  
  
            He meets Woohyun’s eyes, and breathes.  
  
            “It _is_ an accident.”  
  
            _This is something they don’t need to know._  
  
            “The railing broke and gives out on him.”  
  
            He speaks with such conviction, befitting of an ex-homicide detective.  
  
            _It wouldn’t change anything anyway._  
  
            He begs to differ, but who is he to say anything.  
  
            “That’s all.”  
  
            He sees Woohyun wavers in front of him, his anger crumbling down ever so softly, yet he keeps his guard up the whole time, until the other man bows humbly and walks away, the letter smoothens and heavy in the singer’s hand and he is alone again.  
  
            “Thank you and I’m sorry for the intrusion; it’s just, I can’t imagine him to die that easily, just because of some stupid railing.”  
  
            Myungsoo sits; hugging his knees at the innermost corner and catches his reflection at the mirror on the opposite wall.  
  
            “He is- he’s much better than that.”  
  
            The old craving for nicotine strikes up again, as he stares at his own dead, cold eyes.  
  
            Still he sits there, unmoving.  


*******

  
_But don't bring tomorrow  
'Cause I already know_  
  
  
            “Hey, Mr. Officer,”  
  
            He hums in reply.  
  
            “I’m going to die.”  
  
            He leans against the wall, and stares at the sky.  
  
            “Don’t cry for me.”  
  
            There is nothing but clear blue above, mocking him endlessly.  
  
            “Really, I mean it.”  
  
            He remains silent.  
  
            “Until you-

 


	2. Chapter 2

*******

  
_Like a painkiller, I take it  
And I watch the world ignite_  
  
  
            There is no definite number for the last three person, and with Woohyun personally drops by for his, that leaves only two, which, to be frank, are even more of a pain than taking a stab at Google to track down Jang Dongwoo.  
  
            _Lee Sungjong, the youngest among all of us is the same Lee Sungjong you know as the biggest conglomerate CEO in the whole of Seoul. I have no idea how much he has changed by now (money does that to people, really, I swear) but even back then he was one scary little kid. Like, there’s something eerie at how his pretty face is the complete opposite of his personality. But then you’re kind of a pretty boy yourself so maybe you can figure him out better than me?_  
  
            He groans inwardly at that; curse you, no way in hell that will work!  
  
            _Also I have no idea how powerful and rich people work their schedule, so you go and figure that out. Hey, you’re an officer; surely you have know-how in this?_  
  
            Of course not, unless there’s a dead body somewhere, he thinks.  
  
            _Anyways, good luck!_  
  
            That brings Myungsoo back to the present, as he stands at the entrance of the corporate building, and mentally kicks himself. Heaving a sigh and straightens his posture, he takes the elevator to the CEO’s office, ignoring the uneasy feeling that nags inside since he arrived.  
  
            He makes his way to the operator at the counter, and is very surprised at the acknowledgement when he just as much as says his name, as it seems that Mr. CEO is expecting him after all, and he found himself escorted by the pretty operator right to the door before excusing herself.  
  
            The room is large, with a slick brown table taking the most attention among the high-quality furniture, but still it’s the dark piercing look in Lee Sungjong’s eyes that demands the most authority there, as the younger businessman invites him in.  
  
            With steady strides he walks on, stops to reach for the letter in his backpack a few inches before the said table, and slides it across the cleared table. All the time he can feel the gaze on him, but he keeps his own downcast, passive.  
  
            He catches the man glancing at the clock, and takes it as his cue to leave. Taking a few steps backwards, and bows, he turns to leave when the younger speaks.  
  
            “That’s it?”  
  
            He raises the eyebrow at that.  
  
            “You won’t ask me to read it now? Like Hoya and Dongwoo?”  
  
            _Don’t say anything._  
  
            He simply shakes his head, and turns again, only to hear a loud thud hitting the table.  
  
            “Surely, you have something to say yourself, Kim Myungsoo?”  
  
            _You can’t afford to let your guard down._  
  
            “Like how we’ve already met before, way back in high school?”  
  
            So he turns, facing the CEO dead on, and calmly speaks.  
  
            “I’m sorry for my rudeness, but I believe this is our first meeting.”  
  
            There’s an accusation in the younger’s eyes, but he can’t be bother with that.  
  
            “And I am only here simply to hand over the letter, as bequeathed on me by the deceased; nothing more, nothing less.”  
  
            There’s a snicker escaping the younger’s lips and he takes one file before scattering the content all over the table.  
  
            “What is this then?”  
  
            There are a lot of pictures and documents, and it does not take a genius to know that Sungjong has his background checked. He predicted that much at the very least, considering that the person had been so wary in the instruction letter. And he knows he cannot get out of this by pure conviction like he did with Woohyun yesterday.  
  
            So he smiles, softly, and reaches for one paper; a copy of his high school certificate.  
  
            “What does this has to do with anything, really?”  
  
            He ignores the twitch on the other’s face at that.  
  
            “That person is still dead.”  
  
            Sungjong actually leaps and grabs his collar from across the table, face red with anger.  
  
            “You- he ditched us, all of us, to go travelling to God knows where and cuts off all contact and you’re telling me to just accept it? That the whimsical bastard of a hyung had a decency to apologize now, after he’s already dead and gone?”  
  
            He steels himself, bracing for impact.  
  
            “Don’t talk like you have nothing to do with this, Myungsoo.”  
  
            It didn’t come. Instead, he is let go of, and Sungjong is scrambling the pictures, looking for one in particular, and throws it at his face.  
  
            It is the exact same copy as the one left with the bundle, except it is clipped together with another one, showing a male student looking at a camera, a wistful expression on his face.  
  
            “You were there, too. You took that picture for us; before he left.”  
  
            He rewinds his memory for the past week, and suddenly everything clicked into place.  
  
            How Howon had been quick to talk to him, and pays for his drink with no resistance normal for mere acquaintances; Dongwoo had smiled happily when they first laid eyes on each other, and keeps on hugging him even when the tears had long dried; and Woohyun had readily accepts his coffee with no qualms whatsoever, like an old friend instead of complete stranger.  
  
            He had thought that they were quick to be friendly, and attributes it to the fact that they were that person’s friend. But that logic is obviously flawed, and he berates himself for not realizing it.  
  
            “I’m sorry.”  
  
            He gathers all the papers back into place, and caught sight of the medical report.  
  
            “But I don’t remember anything.”  
  
            The crushed look on Sungjong’s face hurts him more than it should have.

 

*******

  
_It won’t be easy, when the tears that the leaving heart had to shed  
And the ones shed by the heart staying behind were so uneven_  
  
  
            “Hey, hyung,”  
  
            That person only smiles wistfully.  
  
            “Do you really have to go?”  
  
            There’s a brief nod, firm.  
  
            “But you promised, you-  
  
            A hand stays in his shoulder.  
  
            “Sungjong, I cannot stay here. No, I don’t want to.”  
  
            The hold tightens.  
  
            “Hate me if you want, but if I’m going to die, I rather it be anywhere but here.”  
  
            The hand retracts, and he never feels so cold.  
  
            “I mean it.”  
  
            The next day, that person is gone from their lives.

 

*******

  
_Rebel against the fate that descends._  
 _Yes, bloom vibrantly, with glory._  
  
  
            It must have become a habit now, to coop inside the room after each delivery, for somehow Myungsoo feels terribly exhausted and all he wants to do is lie down and sleep for 12 hours straight.  
  
            But then there’s only 1 more person left, and there’s the 2 nd letter addressed to him himself that is supposed to be opened before he go and see Sungjong, but he had been neglecting that portion of letters, and he can imagine that person frowning, which is not a good look, really.  
  
            _Kim Myungsoo, congratulations for not giving up and manage to hold on this far. I don’t expect you to be so obedient, but alas you cannot deny me after all, eh? Haha!_  
  
            He takes back what he thinks earlier on; frown all you want, damn it.  
  
            _Still, before you go see the scary CEO, there’s something you need to know. The two last people in the list of recipients, they, well, resent me a lot, I think._  
  
            He starts regretting not reading this sooner.  
  
            _They know that I’m not supposed to leave the hospital; like, they were very aware of it, the situation, unlike the other three. But I want to, no, I need to leave. Heck, I live longer than the old doctor’s expectation anyways; they thought I wouldn’t last a year back then._  
  
            He stills at that.  
  
            _Alas, I’ve been running on borrowed time, Myungsoo, way before we met that day._  
  
            Apparently he had been running late for a meeting when a car swerve past, diving straight into an unsuspecting passerby. It had happened too fast, but he is already running, pushing the man away from harm’s view.  
  
            _For saving me, thank you, Mr. Officer._  
  
            At least, that’s what he was told anyway; as he does not have any idea of what really happened.  
  
            _Now, let me be the one to save you this time._  
  
            He had been out of it for three weeks as a result of the contact, and the shopkeeper greets him with a tear-stricken face; it was almost a miracle he survived the accident.  
  
            _I’m sorry, Myungsoo, but as I thought I really cannot let you live like this._  
  
            Well, that’s exaggerating-  
  
            _You need to get your memory back, Kim Myungsoo._  
  
            He glances at the abundance of paper he received from Sungjong before, and his brain grinds to a halt, as realization sinks in.  
  
            That person knew it, all along, all this time.  
  
            On the top most of the pile is a medical report -his- with the results of the diagnosis in bold, black letters.  
  
            Lacunar amnesia - selective memory loss disorder.  
  
            _You have to._  
  
            He screams.

 

*******

  
_I can’t figure out since when and since where things went wrong  
Everything feels faint like scattering fog_  
  
  
            “Hello, there.”  
  
            There’s a questioning tone at the end of the greeting, but that person smiles regardless.  
  
            “Hey, Myungsoo, it’s rare to see you up here.”  
  
            He shrugs at that, taking in the fresh air of the rooftop.  
  
            “I’m asking for a transfer, back to my hometown.”  
  
            That person’s eyes widen.  
  
            “The higher-ups are more than eager to demote me anyway, so all’s good; a win-win situation. Guess they cannot handle me correcting every single mistake they make after all.”  
  
            They chuckle at that.  
  
            “I’m glad for you, detective.”  
  
            He shakes his head at the remark, and smiles.  
  
            Immediately there is a flash of light in his head, but somehow he is too busy running to notice, his legs propelling him forward with incredible speed.  
  
            He runs hard, gasping for air, just a bit more and he can grab him but he fails to realize the upcoming car swerving towards the stranger until it’s too late. There is a chilling sound of the brake and he is flying and falling and-  
  
            Myungsoo jerks awake with a start, his head pounding; a name left at the tip of his tongue and the details of his dream (memory?) gets fuzzy and blurred together into blankness.  
  
            Just like that, he forgets everything again.  
  
            But each time, too, he will catch himself crying, without ever knowing why.  
  
            Once, the shopkeeper caught him when they went on a fishing trip together, and he had confessed his seemingly peculiar condition in between the urge to punch the living daylights out of the other man and the urge to knock himself out instead because this is embarrassing as hell, but the person had only listen to him, and make him coffee to calm himself down, and he still does not know what to make of the situation now.  
  
            For the look in the man’s eyes is almost as painful as the bitter coffee he had that day.  
  
            “It will be alright, Myungsoo, so don’t give up now. Okay?”

 

*******

  
_On that day, I exchanged promises with you  
Now we can’t recall them_  
  
  
            He walks along the hallway of white walls and the unease that pools in his stomach increases with each step. He has always hated hospitals, be it here or the ones back at the small village; they share the same bleakness in atmosphere and the pungent scent of antiseptics makes him nauseous.  
  
            Still, the recipient of the last letter is a doctor of all things, and for some reason he somewhat know his way around somehow without a need of direction, as a familiar feeling seeps in, though try as he may he is unable to recall if he ever came here before.  
  
            His legs bring him to the stairs leading to the rooftop, and strong wind greets him as he opens the door, white sheets waving at one end and empty benches lined up on the other. Taking a seat at the furthest bench nearest to the railing, he closes his eyes and promptly fell asleep.  
  
            _“I’m glad for you, detective.”_  
  
            _He shakes his head at the remark, and smiles._  
  
            _“It’s just officer now, really.”_  
  
            _A hearty laugh echoes._  
  
            _“Okay then, Mr. Officer.”_  
  
            His eyes sprung open and the sunlight almost blinds him from its brightness but in his bleariness he can almost make out a figure of someone in front of him, standing by the railing, wearing the white hospital gown-  
  
            “Sungyeol?”  
  
            A thud and he is fully awake to recognize the presence of another beside him.  
  
            _The doctor is very busy, so don’t take his time too much._  
  
            He scrambles to pick up the dropped papers, lest it’ll be taken away by the wind.  
  
            _Avoid the rooftop at all cost._  
  
            He stills as the reminder flashes in his mind.  
  
            _Unless you are truly ready for it, don’t go there, Myungsoo._  
  
            The doctor, judging from the white coat he’s wearing, grabs his arm and pulls him to the shaded area on the rooftop.  
  
            “The sun is strong this time of the day.”  
  
            He steals a glance at the ID hanging at the breast pocket and feels his head exploding.  
  
            _I know I said that you need to remember and all but you should take your time instead of rushing things, I mean, it’s what I believe is the best. But who am I to know this?_  
  
            He can barely register what happens when his legs gives up on him.  
  
            _Sungyeol ought to know better, since he’s a doctor and all, but I like to think that I have more sense in this kind of stuff, ha!_  
  
            “No, don’t shut down now. Can you hear me? Listen, look at me, Myungsoo!”  
  
            The ID he read registers the doctor as Kim Sunggyu, psychologist.  
  
            But then, that person, he is-  
  
            _“I’m Sunggyu, the shopkeeper.”_  
  
            _He reaches for the hand, and shakes it, firm._  
  
            _“I’m Myungsoo, nice to meet you, Sunggyu.”_  
  
            _The man smiles bright, hiding the pain in his eyes._  
  
            _“I’ll show you around after you’re discharged, Mr. Officer.”_  
  
            He had been wondering why, but decides it was not his place to intrude.  
  
            _“You will like it here, really.”_  
  
             And he belatedly realized that he had never once told him that he is an officer.  
  
            “Stay with me, Myungsoo!”  
  
            Not to ‘Sunggyu’, no.  
  
            _“Before you leave, to commemorate the, eh, demotion, let’s-_  
  
            The blurry image of the stranger in his memory clears for the first time in long years.  
  
            _“It’s a promise, then.”_  
  
            And he is slipping away.

 

*******

  
_And you just can’t stop the rain_  
 _Whether you wanted it to or not someday it falls_  
  
  
            Sunggyu sits on the chair by the window, hand clutching the letter taken from the backpack that is now sits idly in the small cabinet locker beside the bed. Sungjong had drop by earlier, which is a surprise considering the heavily-tight schedule the businessman has, but one look at the exasperate face of the youngest and he holds his tongue, only responding when necessary.  
  
            Woohyun and Hoya had each taken the liberty to pay the bills, but Dongwoo had beaten them to it, flying all the way from Busan to Seoul when the news of Myungsoo collapsing reached him, which he suspect courtesy of Sungjong, though of course the latter would deny it with his trademark indifferent look.  
  
            The artist had stayed one whole day and was the calmest he had seen in years, but Sunggyu knew better that Dongwoo was on the verge of breaking down inside; and asked Hoya to take him away from the place.  
  
            He had witnessed a similar situation back then, when the group of friends missing one person, and Dongwoo had let the one that got away scot-free despite his own bitterness, only to retreat inside into himself when the true nature of the reason behind the travelling comes out.  
  
            Sunggyu steals a glance at the pale face on the bed, peacefully sleeping, without a care of the world when there is a knock on the door and Woohyun peers in, a small smile on his lips.  
  
             “You need to take a rest, doctor. Surely Myungsoo is not your only patient, now.”  
  
            He heaves a sigh at that remark and simply leans back into the chair, just to spite him. Woohyun only chuckles lightly, to his chagrin, and he catches the other’s gaze on the letter in his palm.  
  
            _Hey, doctor genius._  
  
            The singer takes a seat on the chair beside him and fiddling his own letter.  
  
            _I may have wronged you more than I thought I did._  
  
            He had cursed out loud despite himself, to the shock of the nurses.  
  
            _But that is still nothing compare to how I wronged Myungsoo._  
  
            He could not make a comeback to that.  
  
            _He saved my life. Me, when I barely have any time left to live._  
  
            There is a spot where the ink blurred; and he can see him crying while writing this.  
  
            _But I almost took his instead; and I don’t know what to do. He woke up staring at me like I’m a stranger so I use your name, just to see a reaction, and he- accept it, like it’s the most normal thing ever, and, I try to gauge his memory by mentioning Sungjong, and Dongwoo and Hoya and Woohyun but he just draw a blank look at me and I-_  
  
            He must have written a variation of the same thing, for Woohyun hardly surprised when he showed the singer the specific page.  
  
            _I broke him, I did._  
  
            Two weeks since he found him on the rooftop, and Myungsoo is still sleeping.  
  
            _Please, save him, hyung._  
  
            His heart goes out to Sungyeol, and wonders just where they went wrong.

 

*******

  
_The smiling half moon and the stars that laugh together quietly envelop us  
Only gently, softly, the night wind that blows through sweeps away our hearts_  
  
  
            In the foggy parts of his memory, there is a stranger.  
  
            He has no idea who it is, their name, anything and everything about them, and he can never see the person’s face clearly somehow, but every time it feels like they have known each other since forever, and he can live with that.  
  
            The stranger is a nice person, and a bit of a prankster, but he has a smile so bright, it makes him happy whenever the person smiles. But the stranger is sick, and so they always meet up at the hospital’s rooftop, where white is the wall behind him and the hospital gown, as the sun shines down, blinding the view of everything around them.  
  
            And then there is black, which is the night when they sneak out of the place and wanders around when he is off duty, and also the color of his uniform, the only thing that differs from the sea of white when it is day.  
  
             From time to time, there is red, and he is running, and there is a car, and he can almost catch the face of the nameless stranger when he pushes the man away, but all he can see is red and there is pain, pain, pain everywhere.  
  
            Now, the time from before starts moving again, and clears the grey zone in his mind.  
  
            _“Don’t cry for me.”_  
  
            _There is nothing but clear blue above, mocking him endlessly._  
  
            _“Really, I mean it.”_  
  
            _He remains silent._  
  
            _“Until you are able to call me by my name, Mr. Officer, don’t.”_  
  
            Myungsoo opens his eyes, catches the tears streaming down his face, and he understands perfectly the reason why, this time around.  
  
            “I’m sorry, Sungyeol. I’m really, really sorry. I-  
  
            It hurts; his head, his heart, everything hurts and he is breaking apart.  
  
            Still, he can see the same smile, clearly in his mind, and he is glad for it.  
  
            More than anything else in this world, he is so, so grateful for it.

 

*******

  
_When I can’t confess anything_  
 _I can’t say good bye either_  
  
  
            No matter how many times they do this, it always feels like the first time for him, and that is amazing, he thinks. And every time Myungsoo smirks the way he always does, he always think that everything will be alright, regardless of the situation.  
  
            His doctor had recognized the younger the first time he visits, and was puzzled when the man pulls out a blank look at the familiar greeting, to which he explains the predicament Myungsoo is in.  
  
            “And you are okay with it? That he doesn’t remember you at all?”  
  
            He closes his eyes, breathing.  
  
            “Never mind that he never able to recall your name, regardless of how many times you introduce yourself to him?”  
  
            He smiles bitterly at that.  
  
            “To him now, I’m Sunggyu. Last time it was Woohyun, and it creep me out a bit, ha!”  
  
            The doctor frowns at him, but he ignores it.  
  
            “It’s fine, really.”  
  
            He watches the officer making his way through the crowd and grins.  
  
            “This way, when I am gone, he can live on with no regrets.”  
  
            He says it with conviction in his voice.  
  
            “What about your regrets then? And are you sure he will be fine like this?”  
  
            That stops him on his tracks, and had him thinking. Later, when he is discharged and return to his little shop, he catches the last picture they took together, and brace himself.  
  
            He starts writing the first letter.

 

*******

  
  
            There is a wooden shop selling souvenir at the corner of the road by the police station. The shop is small, simple, and from the window outside there are lots of hanging trinkets adorning the upper space of the shelf, which is full with colorful sculpture and whatnot, neatly arranged.  
  
            The owner of the shop was a man who used to travel around the world after finishing high school and loves telling stories on his travel adventures, though he hardly talk about his personal life, and tends to clam up when asked. He also had an illness, for he frequently visits the hospital, to the point that everyone can recognize his face there.  
  
            But most of all he seemed fond of the hospital’s rooftop, and when he was not manning his little shop, he will surely be found there, and chatter away with the stoic young officer who is also his best friend whenever the latter’s off-duty.  
  
            The situation continues, until one day the shopkeeper leaned by the railing, like he always did, only to have it gave up on him, and he fell down the hospital building.  
  
            The entrance to the rooftop was locked since then, but it is opened again today, when the officer drops by after a long time of disappearance, to the relief of the doctor who used to be the one in charge of the shopkeeper.  
  
            Later, he, along with five other people, who he said was the shopkeeper’s best friends back when he was still alive visit the grave, and the officer finally manage to get the name right this time around.  
  
            The wind blows and the sun shines down on them, but the shopkeeper by the name of Lee Sungyeol is gone, and they had never felt so alone.  
  
            Yet they are there, still there, together, after long years of separation.  
  
            Surely, that’s enough, now.

 

*******

  
_There is very little we can do  
Our heart would wet  
Along with the rain_

 


End file.
